The Miniature Worlds of Bruce Metcalf

Palo Alto Art Center
Palo Alto, California
September 28 - December 21, 2008

There is something deeply unsatisfying about the way fashion is exhibited in museums. Though mannequins in cases demonstrate how garments hang or cling, their frozen poses never show how a piece of clothing moves through the world on its wearer. The same is true of the display of jewelry. In "The Miniature Worlds of Bruce Metcalf," viewers are invited to project themselves imaginatively into the moral, spiritual and psychological universe of Metcalf's work. The show is a thoughtfully designed presentation of dozens of pieces spread over the span of three decades, shown to their best advantage-short of the one thing that would bring them to life: being pinned to a dress or coat and thereby developing personal relationships with wearers and admirers.

Once this is understood-that, like archaeological artifacts isolated from their original functions, Metcalf's pieces can never be fully experienced in a gallery setting-it makes sense to appreciate them as works of art, crafted with great skill and infused with a mordant sense of humor. At first, the overall presentation in this traveling show reinforces such a reading. Sleek black wall cases display thematic groupings of figurative brooches ensconced in the architectural settings Metcalf has often devised for them, while a configuration of vitrines in the middle of the room offers some slightly larger works for contemplation. Adjoining these vitrines is another case, containing a beautifully detailed, topographically diverse landscape created for a miniature train. This astonishing diorama-a wintry scene, replete with bare trees, tiny perfect buildings and people, and even a rushing, resinous river-indicates the extent to which Metcalf (a model train enthusiast) has immersed himself in miniaturization.

The show includes an elegant horizontal case containing two sketchbooks, open to pages filled with the precisely rendered drawings that serve as studies for pieces of jewelry. A few of these idiosyncratic creatures, vastly enlarged, decorate the gallery walls, drawn there by Metcalf himself. The jarring experience of meeting these cartoony figures face to face adds a spark of irreverent levity to the starchy perfection of the presentation and sets in motion a line of thought about whether we, too, might be little figures watched over by someone, or something, much larger.

Metcalf alludes to such an idea in his First Theology Lesson and Second Theology Lesson, both 1998, each featuring a golden, god-like hand reaching toward one of his homely protagonists. Angels appear in several pieces, either flying in pursuit of love or, in Advent of the Damaged Angel, 1997, grounded by desire, pride or ambition. At times, the architectural environments Metcalf has made for these figures suggest tiny stages on which variations
of a modern passion play are being enacted. The ineffectual bodies of these creatures imbue them with a helplessness in the face of adversity-or their own failings. As Metcalf puts it in his essay for the exhibition catalog, "A typical story about anxiety is the trajectory of unintended consequences.... I imagine the outcome of these sorry adventures as cacti: large, prickly, and impossible to touch. Yet touch them we must." One can infer from other pieces that there is always the possibility of re-demption, especially through making or doing. Metcalf's tiny men (and women) hammer nails, paint pictures, wield a shovel, play the banjo. They nurture each other-offer sustenance, a helping hand, a minuscule Band-Aid. A series of carved figures covered in gold leaf collectively reinvent a symbolic language of affection and commitment. Tilting their heads-vegetal forms inspired by seeds, flowers and leaves-they cavort gently with musical instruments or gardening tools.

In a recent documentary, Metcalf described himself as having gotten involved in making things through drawing. The important role that invention with a pencil has played in his three-dimensional work is asserted by its presence in this show. Though he was interested in the study of architecture initially, Metcalf switched his college major, at Syracuse University, to jewelry his junior year. The fact that craft was still "under the radar" in the late 1960s suited him just fine. He found the leading avant-garde art movement of the time-Conceptualism, at its most polemical-to be too restrictive. Paradoxically, becoming a craftsman offered greater freedom. For nearly 40 years, he has taken advantage of the extraordinary liberty offered by the confines of function, material and exacting technique, using it to invent a seemingly endless array of emotionally charged situations. In his miniature world, we become as intimate with the details as he is, as we lean in close to find out what's going on. Now if only we could unleash these pieces on the unsuspecting world outside the walls of a museum.

The exhibition will travel to the Mint Museum of Craft + Design, Charlotte, NC (February 21-May 10); Bellevue Arts Museum, Bellevue, WA (June 27 - October 18); and other venues. The catalog is $32 hardcover, $25 paperback.